


4 Times Feliciano Wondered If He Was A Horrible Person

by plsletmerest



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Gen, Human & Country Names Used, Hurt No Comfort, I wrote this in like an hour, Some historical references, all angst, more like 4 times out of many but there's a theme so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 20:39:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11974602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plsletmerest/pseuds/plsletmerest
Summary: Feliciano had always had a complicated relationship with the concept of freedom. As a person, he craved it. As a nation belonging to his people, it was the one thing he'd never really have.





	4 Times Feliciano Wondered If He Was A Horrible Person

**Author's Note:**

> I've always headcanoned Italy to be idealistic and moral but at the same time he's quick to pick things up and is well aware that it's a dog eat dog world. So it might seem a bit OOC to some people who see him differently?

 “Do not go near that auction, Venice. Those are slaves from the last conquest and Mistress Byzantine would scold me if she learned I allowed you to get close to one,” the servant accompanying Venice said, pulling him away from the crowd around the auction.

“What is a slave?” the little nation asked, wide amber eyes glued to the scene in front of him, “Why is that man chained up?”

“ _That_ is a slave, Venice,” the servant replied, “He will be sold to a family and he will serve them and do whatever they say because that is what a slave is meant to do.”

“Oh,” Venice said, turning his head to the servant, “So like you and me?”

“Heavens no, I am a palace servant from a proud family and you are the beautiful and serene state of Venice, it’s very different. Those people are _very_ different from us. To start with, slaves are aren’t exactly human like you or me.”

“But I am not exactly human either,” Venice replied. It was true, he wasn’t.

“W-well, they also cannot go anywhere and do anything without permission.”

Venice thought back to Ms. Byzantine’s strict rules about Venice’s movements and how she had slapped him once upon learning he had played with the kitchen boy.

“But I cannot do that either.”

Now, the servant seemed to become annoyed at all of Venice’s comments. He hadn’t expected this conversation to drag out so long, usually the young nation was very obedient and trusting, easily accepting anything he was told. The servant couldn’t understand what had put him in such a badgering mood but he was done entertaining it.

“Look, slaves are more akin to possessions than to people, Venice. They don’t belong to themselves so therefore they are not their own people—very different from you or I, you see? Anyways, it would be for the best if you didn’t concern yourselves with their affairs, you can’t do anything about it.”

The servant’s tone of voice made it very clear the conversation was over, but it didn’t keep Venice from thinking.

Venice thought back to his grandpa, whom he had loved with all his heart and who had ripped him away from his childhood home and all his friends without a word one day. He remembered his grandpa marching his broken, battered self off to battle because his emperors had commanded it, even as his grandson had begged him to stay home. He remembered Ms. Byzantine taking him from grandpa’s house. He remembered his grandpa’s heartbroken face. He remembered how his grandpa didn’t fight back though, even though it really looked like he wanted to. He remembered the words Ms. Byzantine had whispered into his ear as she’d carried him off—

“ _You’re **mine** now, little Venice.”_

So slaves are different from him because they don’t belong to themselves?

But I do not belong to myself either.

Venice didn’t speak those words out loud so much as he felt them in his soul. The thought had never occurred to him before but now that it had, he couldn’t get rid of it. Was he a possession to be owned? Had he always been since the beginning? He suddenly felt too ashamed to ask these things. He suddenly felt to angry to speak.

He was well aware he was in no place to complain. He had grand clothes, a luxurious mansion—he was very important and much luckier than the poor man he was watching being sold. No one would ever treat the city of Venice in such a way, no one would ever dare. No, he _was_ different from that man. His fate was far better. And yet…

He wondered if he was horrible for hating Ms. Byzantine, who had granted him so much and protected him so well after his grandpa had died. He wondered what exactly he hated her for. He couldn't put words to it exactly, but suddenly it felt to him like she was depriving him of something important.

* * *

 

Venice had belonged to the Romans, then he didn’t. He’d been a part of the Byzantine Empire, then he wasn’t. He’d grown to be a ‘Most Serene’ republic belonging to the doges, then he wasn’t. He was the Holy Roman Empire’s, then he wasn’t. He was Austria’s, then he wasn’t. Recently he’d been France’s…

…And now he wasn’t again.

And his brother was crying bitterly about it.

“I’ll get you back from that piano obsessed kraut, little Venice. I promise I will.”

“Don’t worry, big brother France,” Feliciano said, hugging his brother tightly, “It doesn’t really matter to me either way.”

Feliciano wondered if he was horrible for saying that. He wasn’t sure if the fact that it was the truth made him better or worse.

* * *

 

Austria was going to sell him. He was going to sell him to the Kingdom of Sardinia in order to stop his siblings, now joined together as one Italy, from joining hands with Prussia.

In truth, Feliciano didn’t know why this bothered him so much. He liked the personification of Austria as a person, he really did, and he believed that Mr. Edelstein liked him back at least a little bit, but he’d never held any doubts about where he ranked on this caretaker’s list of priorities. And anyways, if the choice had come to Feliciano, he would have probably sold a fellow nation in order to save his people from a long and devastating war too. He might not have liked it and he might have cried and whined about it, but he’d have done it.

Still. Somehow the idea that he was being sold to his own family was… vexing.

And perhaps a bit embarrassing?

All of his siblings had fought for their independence and won and here he was, still Austria’s little pet.

“So, are these conditions agreeable for you, Sardinia?”

Sardinia didn’t respond to Austria’s question nor did he make any move to sign the agreement placed in front of him. Instead, he looked to his younger brother who was standing to Austria’s left, a little behind him.

(The Kingdom of Venetia hadn’t been given a seat at the table. After all, the proceedings might have had everything to do with him but that didn’t mean he was about to have a say in how they went.)

Feliciano held his brother’s strong gaze until he wasn’t able to any longer. Sardinia, or Luca as he was known to his family, had always both inspired and intimidated him. Strong, unbreakable, yet a gentle and loving brother all in one perfectly sculpted package—Feliciano couldn’t help but feel ashamed in his presence with the way things were. He was well aware that he was half the reason the newly developing Italy was even entering this conflict. He was the one holding them back from a perfectly united peninsula. And now, whatever his brother chose to do, he’d end up pissing off a great power. The only question was did he want to risk war with Prussia or with Austria?

Feliciano hung his head in an attempt to avoid his brother’s gaze, but it didn’t help. He could still feel his eyes boring into him.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of sitting in silent tension, Austria lost his patience and decided to prompt the other nation again.

“Well? We are giving you exactly what you wanted. Or was there something else you wished to negotiate on?”

Completely ignoring Austria, Sardinia called out to Feliciano instead.

 “Feli, look at me.”

Feliciano shook his head in refusal, eyes never leaving the ground.

“L-Luca,” he rasped, barely holding back angry tears, “Luca, I can’t… I…”

His brother cut him off with a deep sigh. Then, there was the sound of a chair scraping across the floor. Feliciano looked up just in time to see Luca stand and crumple up the treatise Austria had drafted.

“I have made an alliance with Prussia,” Luca said, “And while my newly built nation is very young, we aren’t stupid. I will not openly betray one of the first alliances we’ve made since unification. Also, my people still aren’t terribly fond of you. I will sign no agreement with you. Rest assured, I’ll still get exactly what I want, a whole and unified Italy will happen, but I won’t need to play such underhanded games in order to achieve it.”

Austria stood, enraged, but Luca cut off whatever he was about to say with just a hand.

“And besides that, my little brother is not some commodity up for sale and I will not treat him that way.”

Luca turned to Feliciano now.

“Feli, hold down the fort, okay? You’ll taste freedom soon enough.”

Feliciano wondered if he was horrible for thinking that he’d fight and kill and drive out anyone his brother told him to just for the simple fact that his brother had refused to buy him like a tool. He wondered if he cared how horrible he’d have to become when the prize his brother was promising him was freedom.

(And if there was a little voice in his head whispering that what his brother offered sounded suspiciously like another takeover and implored him to remember what had just happened with the south, Feliciano ignored it.)

* * *

 

“You haven’t left the room in weeks, Italy. Is it really impossible for you to learn to be happy here? Am I really that bad now?” Ludwig implored, standing at the door to Feliciano’s bedroom (his prison).

Feliciano remembered another boy, one long gone, who also had blonde hair and blue eyes and had asked him something similar once upon a time.

He gave Ludwig the same answer he’d given that boy.

“Can anything that’s not free really be happy?”

“But you _are_ free, Italy!” Ludwig—no, Germany—protested, “Just because there is a new government doesn’t mean you’re not free to do as you please.”

Italy smiled a sad, dry smile. Germany sounded like he truly believed that. The nation was intelligent and sharp but he was also young and entirely too trusting.

“Is that what they told you, Germany?” Feliciano asked, “Is that what you believe?”

“I do.”

“Then tell me why I was not allowed to leave. Tell me why I wasn’t allowed to surrender when my people had already made their choice. Tell me why my children are being arrested and massacred into submission. Tell me why that lunatic is, once again, the leader to my people when we imprisoned him no more than a few months ago. Tell me why there is a damned Nazi making my laws, pulling my strings, telling me what to say and what to do. Tell me, am I more or am I less free than any of the other ones you’ve conquered?”

Germany gave no response.

“Tell me, Germany, if I am free then why am I not able to do the things a free person ought to be able to do?”

“Like what?”

“Like _leave_! I want to leave, Germany!”

“But you cannot, Italy. You and I are allies.”

Half of Feliciano wondered if it was terrible of him to want to kill the man who, once upon a time, had been his best friend. The other half of him wondered if it was horrible that he couldn’t quite pluck up the nerve to actually go through with it and perhaps end all of this while he still had the chance.

“Get out, Germany. I cannot stand to look at you.”

The look on Germany’s face was heartbreaking.

And Feliciano felt a jolt of elation. He had done that. He had hurt his invader. He couldn’t care less if it was horrible of him or not, not in the face of everything else that’s happening.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Byzantine Empire was basically what was left after the Roman Empire lost half of itself and they were both big on the slave trade. Slaves mostly were from whatever place they conquered so it was different from later slave trades which targeted specific races. Instead, to mark slaves they would often tattoo something across a slave's forehead and permanently disfigure them in the process. Fun fact, right?  
> 2\. Under Napoleon, France gained control of most of Italy including Venice. After Napoleon, they had to give it back to Austria.  
> 3\. Venetia and the Papal States were the only two places on the Italian peninsula after the second war of Italian independence that weren't a part of the new Kingdom of Italy. Piedmont-Sardinia, which was the country that basically drove and controlled the entire independence and unification movement and the formation of the new state afterwards, made a deal with Prussia who was going to war with Austria. The deal was essentially that they'd fight for Prussia if they get Venetia. Austria tried to sell Venice before the war started in order to prevent this from happening and Sardinia was like 'heck no fuck off'. They did end up getting both Venetia and the Papal States with Prussia's help. And the south thing Feli mentions is when Sardinia more or less (more) invaded southern italy after they joined the new Italy following second war of independence and instated their "Italian" government. The parentheses is because the government they enforced was really pretty much Sardinia's just tweaked a bit.  
> 4\. When Italy surrendered in WWII, Germany had something to say about it. And by something to say I mean they invaded north and central italy, disarmed italian troops, massacred anyone who wouldn't listen to them, and deported whoever they couldn't kill. Then, they decided that they wanted Italy to keep pretending to be their ally so they freed Mussolini, who had been deposed and arrested by the italians, from jail put him back in power and established the RSI. The RSI was an independent italian state ofc! Assuming your definition of independent state includes basically not having any power as a government, being overseen by Nazis, being under martial law, over 3/4th of your remaining military either being sent to work camps or killed, and a shit ton of propaganda being forced down everyone's throats. Some people... settled? Needless to say though a large resistance group rose up in the occupied areas.
> 
> If I'm wrong on any of this info please let me know. I do my own research and I just really love history so I read a lot of it but I'm not an expert by any means.


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